The Burdens of War
by Zendelai
Summary: During the First Contact War, a human infiltrator is captured aboard a turian dreadnought. The young and promising Adrien Victus is assigned to guard duty. Under the weight of the war, all loyalties will be tested. Set in The Woods universe, but the storylines do not coincide. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello my lovely readers! As promised... Here's my First Contact War fic! Thank you for your patience.

I'd like to say a few things before we get started. First off, I'd like to place a warning that there will be significant amounts of violence and mature language used.

Secondly, I'd like to send out a huge thank you to my beta and friend snowwhitequeenv over on tumblr. She's been a huge source of inspiration for me, and she's helped me so much with ironing out the kinks in this story. As always, I'd like to thank my readers as well, without you I wouldn't be here posting this work!

I hope that you enjoy! I'll be updating weekly on Fridays.

Love,

Zen.

* * *

"This is Lion to Hippo, what's your status?"

"Hippo? They gave me fucking _hippo _as my codename?"

"Captain's got a thing for African Lion Safari or whatever."

"Or he's got a thing for fucking hippos."

"He likes 'em big."

"Fat bottomed girls make the rocking world go round."

"Saw him pick up a goddamn whale on shore leave once. She probably weighed a metric tonne. Needed eye bleach to get rid of the image of the two of them together."

She let out a snort of laughter. "I'd rather fuck a fat chick then one of these ugly dinosaur bastards."

"That makes two of us. Speaking of, status?"

"I'm chilling in the vent above their comm room. Got the data disk and the encryption codes ready to go. Can you get a read on my surroundings?"

The Gunnery Chief, currently safely situated in an Alliance shuttle with the stealth systems engaged orbiting one of the largest dreadnoughts in the turian fleet, _The Izvestia_, performed an infrared scan. They had planned their infiltration while the bulk of the turian army was engaged in battle on Shanxi, so the numbers on board were low. "Good news, Hippo. I'm reading one life form in the comm room and two standing guard, but everyone else is at least two minutes away. Either you can take out the hostile quietly, or wait to see if it leaves."

"Going in then. Keep this line open in case you see anything. Hippo out."

She found a grate several feet in front of her, so she silently crawled to it and gazed down. Her eyes fell onto one turian - male, most likely, judging by the size of the cowl - leaning back in a chair with his feet propped up on a desk and a data pad hanging loosely in his fingers. He haphazardly threw the data pad onto the desk and let out a low sigh, rubbing his eyes.

With a level of stealth only obtainable through years of precision training and practice, she used her knife to loosen the screws and slowly lowered the grate. Her feet gripping onto the side of the vent, she uncurled herself so that she was hanging directly above the enemy. In one swift and soundless movement, she grabbed both sides of his head - fighting off the overwhelming urge to recoil at the disgusting feeling of his plates and leathery hide - and snapped his neck like a toothpick. Although he was about to loudly collapse onto the floor, she held him upright and slowly lowered him onto the desk.

He could almost be napping on the job.

She deftly reached down to grab the corners of the desk so she could release the grip of her feet from the vent, and she sprung her weight back to land on her feet. Long ago she had abandoned the bulk and protection of armour in favour of tight, flexible attire designed for stealth. Instead of boots she had black trainers; instead of full body armour she only wore black clothing; instead of a helmet she wore a black hood and a mask that covered the lower half of her face. The only visible skin was the area around her piercing green eyes, which were scanning and analyzing her surroundings.

"Any read on those hostiles on door guard, Lion?" she whispered into her comm.

"Haven't moved an inch, Hippo."

"Good. Moving to the broadcast station. Keep me updated. Hippo out."

Keeping her weight low, she jogged to the largest terminal in the room and began to dance her fingers over the keyboard. First she decrypted it to gain access, then she input the broadcast signal to the Alliance fleet, and finally she inserted the data disk and the encryption codes before sending out the signal. Were she not in a situation that required silence, she would have cried out in excitement at the first step towards Alliance victory in the First Contact War.

After all, she had just sent the Alliance the layout and crew report for every turian ship and outpost, as well as their weapons and ammo depot locations and inventory.

"Hippo, this is Lion, just got your broadcast. Damn fine work. Ready to rendezvous and get the fuck out of here? Place reeks of lizards."

"Can't get me out of this shithole fast enough. Send me the rendezvous coordinates, I'll be -"

The Gunnery Chief's eyes went as wide as saucers when the screen in front of him lit up like a menorah on the last day of Hanukkah. "Fuck! Hippo watch your six, I'm having a serious influx of hostiles coming your way, get your ass out of there!"

The Gunnery Chief's warning was too late. The two turian guards - one male, one female - had already entered the comm room and had the infiltrator in their sights. "Lion, run. I'm scrubbing. Hippo out."

Unfortunately for them, she was one of the most feared Alliance operatives for a reason. She threw her weight forward into a roll, reaching across into her hip holsters to draw both of her silenced pistols. As soon as she was upright, the guards had bullets clean through their brains and were slumped onto the floor.

The ship wide alarm must have been silent, because she heard the cavalry began to charge into the hallway outside the comm room.

Pylons. They're all obstacles in the way of Alliance victory. In such a large numbers disadvantage with no cover, she knew that her only chance of survival was to use her agility to quickly dart between enemies, battling them hand-to-hand and using their own weapons against them. She holstered her pistols and began her kill count.

The first turian raised his pistol at her. She grabbed his pistol arm and aimed it at his stomach before firing, throwing his limp bulk to the side. One.

The female behind him was equipped with a shotgun, so the operative took a dancing sidestep to avoid the shrapnel from her shot. She grabbed one of the turian's mandibles and yanked, hard, until with a gush of blue blood it ripped off her face. The turian collapsed in pain, and the operative brought all of her weight down on her foot, landing on the turian's head. Two.

They became smarter, and this time three turians came through the door. The one in front was wearing heavy armour and started to charge her; she used his momentum to her advantage, swiftly stepping aside so he barreled past her while she grabbed his comrade's pistol arm, shooting the first turian through the back of the head before bringing the butt of the pistol up to the second turian's jaw with such force that it cracked his neck. She decided to use the turian in her arms as a shield and shot the third turian clean between the eyes. Three. Four. Five.

Three more came through the door, and she spotted an engineer behind them, preparing to set up a turret. She spun her turian shield to face them, feeling his limp body tremble as his fellow soldiers' shots entered his body, and she methodically shot down the three men before dropping the body in her arms and his weapon; she then flipped onto her hands and back onto her feet so she was directly in front of the engineer. She broke his neck and used a module to hack the turret. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

She now had them bottlenecked in the hallway with the turret watching her back. Four turians were sprinting towards her so she rolled a smoke bomb towards them; when it went off, she heard them hack and cough, so she sprinted towards them. She swung her leg low to send the first turian crashing to the ground before she kicked her face plate in, sending a wave of blue blood gushing over the tile flooring as the female ceased her screaming with a gargle. She grabbed the fringe of the second and pulled up and over his head; several pieces came off of his body in a sickening crunch, and he screamed in agony before falling face first onto the floor, unconscious. She jumped onto his head with both feet, and his skull collapsed under her weight as she launched herself towards the last two, grabbing the backs of their heads to bring them together before they fell to the floor like sacks of potatoes. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

She was out of breath, her muscles ached, and every inch of her was covered in blue blood; but she would not tire, her adrenaline and survival instincts pushing her forward. A wicked smile crossed her features as she saw four more victims, ripe for the picking, beginning to march down the hallway with assault rifles perched in their talons.

Pain, sudden and sharp and blinding, stabbed her in the spot between her shoulder blades and she was thrown face first to the ground.

"Don't move." The voice was turian, male, and it meant business. His boney knee dug into her back as he shifted his weight onto her, leaving her breathless. The business side of his gun felt cold against her cheek. "If you do, I'll blow your brains out."

Deep in her throat she growled, but she conceded defeat. She hadn't been the only one who had figured out how to use the vents.

* * *

"So let me get this straight." His subvocals rippled with anger as he closed his eyes and pinched between them to calm himself. "This Alliance operative managed to breach our defenses, get her greasy little fingers on our most valuable intel, break into our comm room, and broadcast this intel across all Alliance ships before taking down fourteen good men single-handedly who tried to stop her?"

The Lieutenant Commander was shaking in fear of his Ship Master's wrath. "Yes... yes, sir."

Senior Ship Master Silvus of _The Izvestia _was imposing by turian standards: he was well over eight feet, with broad shoulders, heavy armour, stark white markings that contrasted with his dark grey plates, and a reputation for being ruthless with both his subordinates and his enemies. But with him, the job _always _got done, one way or another. "Would you like to explain to me how the _fuck _that happened?"

"Well s-sir, it appears that she used the v-vents-"

"Fucking revolutionary! The vents! Who would have thought an infiltrator would use the vents? How did we miss this?"

"Sir, with the battle today-"

"We knew it would be a perfect opportunity for something like this to happen." Silvus stood from his captain's chair and towered over the shaking Lieutenant. "_Where the fuck was your goddamn team?"_

The Lieutenant shook so badly that his words were almost indecipherable. "It... it w-was Serviceman Villian's b-birthday, w-we t-took f-f-f-five minutes to h-have a s-s-s-s-slice of Serviceman Natia's cake-"

The Ship Master's face was now mere inches from his Lieutenant's. "That piece of cake may have cost us the war, and it definitely lost you your position. You're discharged, Lieutenant, and since I don't want to waste any of my shuttles getting you home you'll be on janitorial duty - I think bathrooms will be suitable - until the next time we land in non-hostile territory, and then you'll be on your own."

The Lieutenant had no choice but to acquiesce to his fate; to argue with the Ship Master meant a guaranteed express trip to trial for insubordination and he had no desire for further trouble. With a snapped salute he turned on his heel and exited, resigning himself to his fate of scrubbing out toilets for the next several weeks. As he stepped out, he heard the Ship Master growl, "Send in Senior Serviceman Vakarian."

Silvus paced with his fingers laced behind his back while he waited for Vakarian. His head ached when he considered the discussion he was doomed to have with Admiral Vanorn, admitting his failure and addressing the inevitable fallout of the release of information.

"Senior Serviceman Vakarian at your service, sir."

The Ship Master turned in time to catch Vakarian's salute. Kaius Vakarian was one of the best damn men on his ship: infallibly loyal, fiercely competitive, intelligent, and unstoppable with a sniper, Silvus estimated the man was destined for a command post in the next five years.

"At ease," Silvus growled. "What's the captive's status?"

"While we were escorting her to a holding cell, she attempted to attack her escorts and we were forced to sedate her. She's currently unconscious in holding area B. We've stripped her of everything but her underclothes." He didn't add that his disgust of the human form was what kept him from stripping her to absolutely nothing.

"I see. Is she being supervised?"

"Serviceman Sahco is with her at the moment."

"Excellent work, Senior Serviceman. You'll be receiving a recommendation for a commendation for your work today in stopping the assassin, seeing as you're the only one smart enough to think of not only inspecting the vents, but using them tactically."

"I'm honoured, sir."

"Our work with her isn't over yet; not even close. Give her only enough rations to survive, and toss her sorry ass into one of the cells in block D." Silvus hoped that when all she had was a hole in the ground to shit in, a moldy blanket on a concrete floor to sleep on, a dog door to receive her food, and minimal interaction with the outside world, she would break quickly. "Give her a week of that, and then we'll begin interrogations. By the time we're done with her, we'll know what colour underwear Admiral Grissom wears."

"Yes sir."

"Who are your four best Servicemen?"

"Raxus, Victus, Quintin, and Vanorn. I'd trust them with my life."

"I want the four of them to cycle guard duty for this woman. That bitch will have turian eyes on her at all times."

"Aye aye, sir. I'll notify the Servicemen and have her transferred to block D."

"Dismissed."

_That bitch will pay, _the Ship Master thought to himself. _I'll break all her fingers and toes and flay every inch of her if I have to, but she will pay for what she did._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Happy Friday! Thank you to everyone who read my first chapter, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Just a warning that it does get a bit graphic at times.

I'd like to again thank my lovely beta, snowwhitequeenv, as well as my readers!

* * *

It was two days before they first brought her water.

Whatever sedation medication they had used left her mouth feeling like it was full of cotton balls, and her saliva had worked so hard for the first day by the second day it had simply given up. Each breath was agonizing down her parched throat, and her stomach had cramped so painfully she could barely sit up, let alone stand.

So when that tiny little flap at the bottom of her door opened up, she threw herself onto the water. It took every ounce of her will to keep herself from drinking the entire bottle, regardless of the murky yellow tinge she could see through the clear plastic. The first small sip dissipated the dryness in her throat and mouth; by the end, even the cramping in her stomach had faded to be replaced by the growl of hunger.

The next day, there was water - only an infinitesimal amount, half a bottle at most - but no food. Her stomach growled angrily and she began to feel weak. What she would not do, however, was ask for mercy: to ask these terrorists for anything meant giving in. She also knew that her time left living in a relatively uninjured state was short, and she didn't want to shorten it by showing signs of weakness. So she stayed silent, regardless of the pangs of hunger and thirst, and lack of sleep and hygiene.

There was food on the fourth day, an uncooked hunk of varren meat. This time she disregarded her training and ate the entire slab within minutes, doing her best to ignore the slimy texture and ashy flavour. As she was about to let out a sigh of contentment, the meat came back up into her throat and she had to run to retch into her hole in the floor. When her stomach had emptied the majority of its contents, her mouth burned with the residual taste of the stomach acid and her head pounded from dehydration. The bastards hadn't given her any more water, and she didn't expect they would give her more until tomorrow.

She mentally anguished over the situation for hours. Although it would be weak to give in and beg for water, she couldn't stand staying like this for another day. Throwing her pride aside, she pushed the flap and stuck her head out.

"Officer?"

The turian on duty was female; she had light grey plates with blood red markings, and even from her poor viewpoint below she could tell that this was not the type of turian to mess with. The female turned to face her, let out a derisive snort, and turned her gaze back to the hallway.

"Officer, may I please have some water?"

The turian continued to ignore her pleas, but she did pull out a combat knife and began to sharpen it. At that, she retreated back into her cell to wait for the next shift change.

She fell into a restless sleep, filled with dreams of banquet buffets and waterfalls of crystal clear water, and she woke to find her kidneys aching and her teeth burning as the stomach acid began to wear at the enamel. With a short sigh of resignation, she crawled again to the flap and, lying on her side, stuck her head out.

The guards must have switched in her sleep, because this one was male. His markings were white and covered most of his face, and his eyes were amber. Something about the way he held himself exuded both confidence and kindness.

"Officer?" Her throat was so dry that her words were nothing more than hoarse whispers. Like the last guard he turned to face her, but instead of malice in his eyes she saw pity. "What's your name?" she asked.

His mandibles flickered as he contemplated his next action. Although he had received strict orders not to speak to the prisoner, even through the small glimpse he knew had never seen anything more pathetic in his entire life. Her skin was pale and tinged green, her lips were dry and cracked, and it sounded painful to speak. "Victus," he finally replied. "Serviceman Victus."

"Nice to meet you, Victus. Any chance you could get me a little water?"

His predatory eyes pierced through her, and she had to hold her breath to keep herself from recoiling in fear. Not the fear that he would hurt her, though; no, he was kind, she could read that. It was the fear that he was looking through her, analyzing her. His gaze was so intense that he could have been reading her mind, prodding into its deepest corners and discovering her darkest secrets. Never in her life had anyone contemplated her so intensely and for so long.

After what felt like hours, but what had truly been about five minutes, Victus stood and walked out. She heard him mutter to another turian, "I'm just grabbing a drink for myself, keep an eye on her for five." She immediately ducked her head back into her cell, and when she slumped against the wall she found that she was as winded as if she had just run a ten kilometer agility course.

Ten minutes passed, and she jumped up when she heard a tapping on her door and the loud clunk of a water bottle. Her arm snapped out to grab the bottle and she quickly drank half of it, saving the other half for later.

"What's your name?" Victus called from the other side of her door.

She did not answer.

* * *

The eighth day of her captivity was the first time they removed her from her cell.

She had been curled up in the corner, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders to provide her with a semblance of warmth, when the door flew open and the sudden rush of light from outside burned her eyes. Three well-armoured men stepped in wordlessly, armed with assault rifles and a tool she guessed was similar to a tazer. The turian in front - the largest of the three - grabbed her under her arms and forced her onto her feet. He shoved the barrel of his rifle into her lower back and growled at her to walk; she was so weak that she stumbled on her first step, so he brought the butt of his rifle down between her shoulder blades, winding her and causing her to cry out in pain. He pulled her roughly back onto her feet and forced her out, and she used all of her energy to keep herself from stumbling again.

Victus flipped a page in his book as he watched them exit with an expression of disinterest. Although he pitied her pathetic state, she deserved it: she killed fourteen of his fellow soldiers in cold blood, and hundreds more were doomed from the information she leaked.

"You want to come see this, Victus?" Silvus - his Ship Master - asked.

"How long will you be?"

"As long as it takes."

Victus held his book up. "Thanks, but this is keeping me pretty occupied."

Silvus shrugged. "Your loss, you'll be missing out on seeing this little piggy squeal."

Victus waved lazily and returned to his book. She may deserve what she'll get, but that didn't mean he wanted to watch. He took a long sip of water, rolled his shoulders, and settled in to finish his novel.

Two hours later, the three men returned. If she hadn't been the only human on the ship, the unconscious woman they dragged between them would have been unrecognizable.

Her face had been beaten to a pulp, her eyelids swollen so badly that her eyes had been reduced to narrow slits. Her mouth was hanging open and blood was flowing freely out, but he could catch that at least half her teeth were now broken or missing. Her nearly naked body was covered in black and blue bruises, perfectly sized for a turian fist, and one of her legs was jutting out at an awkward angle. Her hair - it was blue, he noted, a colour he had never seen before in humans - was matted with blood and she had a lump the size of a golf ball sticking out from her hairline.

"Stupid bitch passed out before we could get more information from her," one of the two guards grumbled.

"What did you find out?" Victus asked, working to keep his subvocals from betraying his disgust.

"She's Alliance - fucking obvious - and part of some sort of elite ops team. Got past our lines with archaic jamming tech. When I tried to get more info on the tech, she went unconscious." He snorted derisively. "I know that they're soft, but I didn't think she'd be that damn soft. Pathetic."

Victus heard a clunk as they threw her into her cell, followed by a loud bang as they shut the door. No water, no food.

The interrogators left, and block D was plunged back into silence.

He attempted to continue to read, but failed. The image of the broken, beaten, and bruised human kept filling his mind. He hated her for all the atrocities she committed against the turian people, but was this level of torture necessary? She was doubtless acting under orders, doing what was necessary to help her people win.

Torture was nothing new in the art of war. Wars had been won in the interrogation room, prying the necessary information out of dying mouths. But it was something that had always stirred up the deepest pits of his conscious and bothered him to no end. He imagined himself in her position, surrounded by an enemy that is physically stronger than her, starving and dehydrating her before beating her senseless while she had orders not to say a single word. How is that just? How is that fair? Although she was an alien, she was still a living, conscious being with a spirit; it went against everything he believed in to treat another spirit with such disregard.

He stood and rested his hand against the door. He could go to the Captain and tell him that his actions are immoral; that would result in an express trip to discharge, and the military was his life. He couldn't disobey orders for not only a stranger, but an enemy.

With a sigh of acquiescence he lowered his hand. Duty came first, regardless of the cost.

He began to hear an unusual sound coming from the cell, so he pressed his ear against the door. For a moment he thought she was choking on either her blood or her teeth: she was gasping and making sounds like her breath was catching in her throat. He was about to turn and get help when he heard her let out a ragged exhale. She hiccupped and alternated between agonized moans on her exhales and ragged gasps when she inhaled. He didn't know what in the name of the Spirits she was doing, but it sounded pathetic, and his pity for her grew. He was transfixed to the door; although he was unsure what these sounds meant, he had a feeling it was how humans expressed sadness and pain. His fingers involuntarily curled into a fist as he felt a wave of anger that his own men could do this to someone. He felt the overwhelming urge to open the door and rest his forehead on hers, just like his mother did when he was young and had sprained his wrist. However, that was impossible, so he settled on once again asking, "What's your name?"

The choking sounds calmed momentarily, and she responded, "Go fuck yourself."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Happy Friday! Just a couple quick announcements.

1) I haven't done a disclaimer yet, so let me take this opportunity to say that Bioware owns everything, and they're amazing for creating these characters and this rich universe we're all so in love with.

2) Thanks again to my beta, snowwhitequeenv, who is also amazing.

3) I'm going to be leaving for North Carolina on Friday next week, so I'll be posting the chapter on Thursday.

Thank you to all my readers for your continued support!

* * *

For the second day in a row during Victus's shift, the three interrogators threw the human's unconscious and badly beaten form into her cell and slammed the door behind her. Silvus wiped his hands on his armour with an expression of disgust.

"She tried to spit on me," he growled, "before I could even begin asking questions. She won't be getting up for a bit." Victus's mandibles fluttered in fear as his eyes followed the ruthless commander.

They still hadn't given her any food or water.

After a half an hour had passed, he pressed his ear to the door to check if she was still breathing. She was, but each inhale required so much exertion that he was beginning to doubt that she would stay alive much longer. He heard her cough, and the pain must have been great because she began to make the odd noises from the day before.

"Human?" He asked, feeling awkward. If she insisted on refusing to give him her name, she would have to accept 'human'. "Can I get you some water?"

"Shove a pole up your ass, bird lizard," she growled before submitting to a fit of coughing.

"I'd prefer not to," he responded in a deadpan voice.

"What do you fucking want, Victus? Is this some good cop bad cop bullshit ploy? Because I ain't falling for it."

"I don't know what that means."

Were her eyes not swollen shut, she would have rolled them. "It's where your fucking comrades beat the shit out of me, and then you're all nice nice so that I just tell you what you want to know." Speaking caused her such pain that she had to grab her ribs; she estimated a half dozen of them were broken. "Well it isn't going to fucking work. I won't tell any of you pieces of shit a fucking thing."

"And what if I just wanted to get you water?"

"You don't. Now please fuck off so that I may slowly die in peace."

She guessed that he must have listened to her, for she received no response. She lay on her back and began to analyze her injuries in an attempt to treat them: she had broken ribs, a baker's dozen of missing teeth, her ankle was broken (compound fracture, so she was most likely going to be unable to walk unassisted for the rest of her short life), both eye sockets and her jaw were broken, and she had countless bruises covering her entire body. Every square inch of her ached and burned, and she knew how it felt to want to die.

She was shocked when she heard the clunk of a water bottle hitting the floor.

"I brought you water anyways," Victus snapped. "Lose the attitude and I'll bring you food."

Her brows attempted to knit into a furrow, but with the extent of her injuries it simply brought a sharp pang of pain. "Why?" she retorted.

"My captain would space me if you died."

"You're fucking lying."

"What did I say about the attitude?"

She grumbled and gargled a small sip of the water to wash the blood out of her mouth before taking a large mouthful. "You'd be hostile too if you were the one in the cell, cocksucker."

"Why don't you just tell them what they want to know?"

"If you were in my shoes, would you tell the humans shit?"

He contemplated her question for a long time, but in the end he chose not to answer. Frankly, he didn't know if he would talk if he was captured; it was against his integrity to spill the beans, but everything sounds easier when you're not being tortured.

"What's your name?" he asked, for the third time.

"It's Chief Warrant Officer Go Fuck A Goat."

"Pleasure to meet you, Officer Go Fuck A Goat."

She began to laugh, but she instantly regretted it when the blinding pain from her ribs caused her to see stars and blackness. Victus's voice pulled her back into a conscious state. "What's your name, really? No bullshit."

"That's intel," she whispered hoarsely. "Can't just give that away."

"It'll be just between you and I."

"I'm expected to just fucking trust you because you bring me water? I'm not an idiot."

He sighed. "No, you're not. But if you don't tell me, I'll have to make something up, and you won't enjoy it."

"Let's hear it." Although Victus was an enemy, she had to admit that speaking to him slightly distracted her from the crippling pain.

"How about _tar'l fl'nor_?"

"And what the fuck does that mean?"

"Roughly translates to shit head."

"Get more creative. I want it to sting."

"Cunt face?"

"That's all you've got? I'm disappointed. Make it personal."

"If I wanted to offend you, I could call you a _knorl_."

"Which is...?"

"Native animal to Palaven. Land faring animal, known for being all around useless. Their meat is poisonous to turians, their hide can't be converted into anything useful because it's so thick and unworkable, their hair is too coarse to make clothing, and they're the least intelligent creatures on the planet. You want to really offend someone, you call them a _knorl_, so I'm calling you a _knorl_."

She couldn't help it: she began to laugh again, and immediately regretted it when she felt the blinding pain over take her. After a long respite to catch her breath, she admitted defeat at the hands of Victus. "It's Choi."

"What's Choi?"

"My name you sack of shit."

"First name or surname?"

"Surname you dumbass. No parent names their kid Choi."

"Well I'm not well versed in human names. What's your first name?"

"I don't know yours, why the fuck should I tell you mine?"

"Mine's Adrien. Now tell me yours."

_I'm dead anyways. Might as well tell him my fucking name. _"Sadie," she said. "My name's Sadie Choi."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sadie Choi."

"Same to you, Adrien Victus. Now, do you mind fucking off so I can sleep off these broken bones?"

He returned to his seat with a faint smile gracing his features.

Half an hour later, Sadie found a ration bar in her cell.

* * *

On the eleventh day of her incarceration - and after two days of failed interrogations - Silvus began to get more creative with his methods of torture. Fists were replaced with knives as they cut her body, and broken bones were replaced with charred skin as they used an acetylene torch to slowly melt away her skin until they reached her bones.

But nothing came close to what Silvus did on the fourteenth day.

That was the day that she spilled. She didn't confess everything - too many lives were at stake - but she confessed enough to compromise many operatives.

As she was laying in her cell, curled into a tiny ball with her arms wrapped around her legs, she shook uncontrollably as the memory repeated itself in her mind, over and over again like a broken film strip.

The poker, white hot and fresh from the fire.

The grin that crossed her captor's face as he removed the last of her torn undergarments.

The fear that gripped her with such strength that her bladder released.

The agony, the way that she writhed across the table and screamed for her mother, her father, God, Buddha, Allah, anyone who would listen, as he brought the poker to her body and melted away the last of her womanhood.

As he pulled away to put the poker back in the fire, she gave in.

_Why didn't I scrub? _She kept asking herself. _"When you're caught, you scrub." That was the one rule that I learned. Everything else they're lenient about, but when you're caught, you scrub. That's how it has to be. Why didn't I do it?_

Sobs violently racked her whole body. The starvation, the dehydration, the neglect, the humiliation, it was nothing, _nothing_, compared to the white hot poker.

Victus had his ear to the door again, and his talons were digging so deep into his palms that blood began to drip out.

Silvus's words haunted him. "We burned that little bitch's cunt. We burned it until she spilled! We'll have her back tomorrow and we'll find out every single fucking thing that bitch knows."

And he laughed. Laughed like he was _enjoying _submitting this woman to torture. Yes, she had committed atrocities against the turian race, but no one deserved that sort of punishment. Especially at the hands of a maniac like Silvus, who was having so much fun torturing her that he hadn't even notified the hierarchy that they had a prisoner for fear that they would take her away.

He closed his eyes and took a series of deep breaths to quell the rage that rose in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to enter Silvus's quarters and slit his throat while he was sleeping. No, he didn't deserve such a quick pass to the spirits - it should be slow and agonizing, just like what he was doing to her.

When he was calm enough that his subvocals ceased to shake, he whispered, "Sadie?"

She didn't respond right away: she was so focused on her own thoughts that his voice sounded like it was coming from a long tunnel. She continued to shake and weep until he repeated her name, and his voice was so gentle and full of concern that it pulled her out of her anguish.

"Adrien?" she whispered back.

In spite of everything, Victus had been there every day for her. She hated him for what he was - she hated him for what his people did - but he was there, sitting outside her cell every day after her torture sessions. Their conversations were relatively one-sided; her mind was so busy reliving the torture that she would often forget to respond. But he would tell her stories, of his own life and of the turian people, and his voice like the rolling waves of the sea would make her forget, just for a moment, the pure desperation of the situation. He reminded her that although the galaxy was full of desolation, filth, and horror, it was also filled with good.

She would never admit it - Lord, how could she? - but he was what gave her the will to live for another day. In the beginning, she hated the dual-toned flange in his subvocals, but now the sound of his voice warmed her heart. And she never forgot the feeling of the first day they spoke, the sight of his eyes boring into her soul.

"I heard what they did," he muttered. "I'm sorry."

On the first day, she would have blown off his kindness, saying something like "you're not fucking sorry" or "go suck a dick". But now she was unable to reprimand such a kind soul, knowing that his apology came from the heart. "No, I'm sorry," she responded shakily. "I killed your fellow soldiers. I deserve this." She began to sob again, feeling more pity for herself than she had ever felt for another person.

Her lack of empathy had been what had made her such an excellent operative, and now it was coming back to haunt her.

Victus couldn't take it any longer; to listen to a fellow being in such agony from the work of his Ship Master was more than he could take.

Although he would be sent before the hierarchy if Silvus found out, he pulled the cell key out from inside his armour, slipped it into the lock, and opened the door.

The smell that accompanied his action was overwhelming; a wave of shit, vomit, blood, piss, and every other human excretion assaulted him, but he ignored it and approached her. He crouched before her and took her hand in his; she was so surprised that her tears abruptly ceased.

"What are you..." she whispered. Although his hide was leathery, the warmth of his hands enveloping her own seemed to warm her whole body and the comfort it emanated stunned her speechless.

"I'm sending a comm wave to the Alliance." Neither fear nor falseness tarnished his words; if she had been able to open her eyes, she would have seen that his eyes were blazing with determination. "I'm telling them that you're here so that they can come get you."

He felt her hand begin to tremble, and her head faintly shook from side to side. "You can't do that," she whispered.

His eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"I can't tell you."

An angry growl tore through his throat, and she reeled back in fear. "I'm throwing my career away, Sadie. Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn't send them a comm wave, or I'm sending it regardless of what you say."

"Why are you helping me? I'm the enemy."

"It's not about who the ally is and who the enemy is. It's about doing what's right, and what they're doing to you is as far from right as I've seen in my years."

Through his hands he could feel her tremble. His eyes involuntarily trailed across her mangled body; she barely had any untouched skin to speak of, for every inch was covered in burns, bruises, or cuts.

"Tell me why I can't call the Alliance, Sadie," he repeated.

"I didn't scrub," she whispered. "Because of that, if I go back, it will be a fate worse than this."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Early chapter this week since I'm heading to North Carolina early tomorrow morning. Thanks again to all my readers and supporters!

It was almost a relief, finally admitting her greatest secret. Doing so meant a slow and painful death the moment the Alliance found out, but her choices now were growing more and more limited. In spite of everything, she was growing to trust Victus, and if he wanted to save her then she would be mad to deny him the opportunity.

She spoke for so long and her voice grew so hoarse that halfway through Victus had to leave to retrieve more water for her. She couldn't see it, but his eyes never left her as she spoke, and he absorbed every word she uttered like a sponge.

"I'm part of an elite black ops Alliance group. Only twenty of us were chosen for training, and we're the goddamn best that humanity has to offer.

"It all began before they even discovered the Prothean data caches on Mars. I was part of the United States Central Intelligence Agency - known as the CIA - as a field agent and operative. I would complete missions around the world for the American leaders, and regardless of what the job was, I fucking got it done. Every move I made was heavily classified and confidential, and as a result my work was my goddamn life. But I was one of the top five field agents in all of the fucking US, so it didn't matter. I would hunt for terrorists, bust worldwide drug rings, assassinate mafia bosses; you name the crime, and I had done justice on a global scale. I was an unsung hero, but frequently saving the world had a lot of benefits: the pay was outlandish, I commanded more respect than some of my superiors, and I got laid more often than Hugh Hefner." She began to laugh, but it shortly lead to a bout of painful coughing and she had to lean away to spit out blood. "It also meant when the Alliance was formed and began recruitment, I was at the top of their list.

"It was hard to leave the CIA, but it was worth it to continue my work on a galactic scale. I was personally chosen by General Jon Grissom for a very hush-hush branch of operations known as the Alliance Restricted Special Operations, or the ARSO. When I agreed to join, they completely expunged any records of my existence: my work history, my achievements, my education, even my name. Before you ask, yes, my birth name isn't Sadie, it's a name I chose when I joined the Alliance. And no, I'm not telling you what my birth name is, so don't even fucking think of asking.

"To say that training was rigorous would be an understatement. We were taught to fight under any circumstances, using any weaponry. They once dropped us in the Arctic Circle with nothing but a combat knife and we were forced to kill and eat polar bears and seals to survive. Another time, they dropped us in the middle of the desert with no water and no food; I remember that I was even more dehydrated that week than I am now. When we weren't on survival missions we were training, sixteen hours a day every day until we were the strongest, the fastest, the most accurate, the most proficient with every single weapon put in front of us. I can take out an enemy as easily with a kitchen knife as I can with a crossbow. We are highly refined weapons, built not to feel empathy or compassion but to kill and survive at all costs. We lost half of our recruits in the process, but those who survived - including myself - will never be rivaled in combat.

"When your fucking lovely people attacked us unprovoked over Relay 314, they unleashed us to complete the most critical, most sensitive missions. My mission was to retrieve the information on this ship and broadcast it to the Alliance. I was successful, until I was caught.

"Before they sent us out, they told us that we had no limitations as long as the job got done. Kill whoever needed to die, and destroy whatever got in your way. But there was one rule that they hammered into us from day one: if you're caught, you scrub."

"Scrub?"

"Suicide. When we were far enough into our training that it was obvious we were bound for success, we had a small procedure to remove one of our teeth and replace it with a false tooth filled with cyanide. The information housed in our minds - the existence of the ARSO, the secrets of our training, countless Alliance secrets - was too valuable to risk giving it away to some terrorist motherfucker. So we agreed that if we get caught, we scrub. If we don't scrub, we're in for a hell of a painful death. But when that asshole jumped on me and dug his knee onto my back, I couldn't do it."

"Why not?"

"This galaxy we're in is pretty fucking full of terrible shit sometimes. The fact that the ARSO even has to exist, and the fact that I'm being slowly tortured to death by your people, is evidence of that. But I have no fucking idea what's on the other side, and you know what? When I felt his knee dig into my back and I knew that I was backed into a corner, I had no desire to find out. You know, your buddy Silvus may be a cocksucker, but he's a smart cocksucker: after I was first knocked out, when I woke up, my fucking cyanide tooth was gone. No more scrubbing for me, even if I wanted to, and they took away all my clothes and possessions so I couldn't hang myself.

"So you say that you want to know why you can't call the Alliance? That's why. Silvus says that if I talk, he'll spare me, but he's talking out of his fucking ass. I don't have a chance. If I have any hope of surviving, it's in escape, but even then... I'll have to hide, probably somewhere on Earth, and change my identity and my job and fabricate my entire life. Even then, if the Alliance ever found me, I'd be more fucked than a cheap hooker on Valentine's Day."

Victus was silent for what felt like an eternity as his mind reeled, contemplating the new insight into this woman previously shrouded in mystery.

Were he a more logical man, he would have thanked her for the artful recollection of the ARSO, promise her that he would not call the Alliance and that her secret was safe with him, and return to his post to guard her until she suffered a slow and agonizing death at the hands of his Ship Master.

However, Victus was not a logical man.

"Soldiers have to do their duty," he muttered before standing and promptly exiting the cell, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Fear relentlessly gripped Sadie the moment she heard Victus shut the door.

She had been such a fool to place her trust in a turian. Clearly, he was going straight to his captain to regurgitate every word that she had just told him. The lives of her fellow ARSO agents would be at stake, as well as those of her superiors.

This is why she preferred solidarity: trust only lead to trouble.

After a day, no one had come back into her cell, Victus or otherwise, and she had received no further rations.

So when she heard the door swing open and promptly close, she expected the worst.

"It's me," Victus hissed. "Can you walk?"

Walk? Why did he need her to walk? Was he taking her back to the torture chamber? Were they going to a new room entirely?

"I doubt it," she admitted.

"Can you crawl?"

Although the request was confusing, she obeyed and pulled herself onto her hands and knees. Her ankle protested, but she found that if she put most of her weight on her intact leg she could slowly move herself. "Sort of."

"Good enough, I'll just have to carry you to the vent then." She heard something rustling around before the object was dropped in front of her. "You'll have to carry the rucksack; it will look suspicious if I'm carrying it."

"Victus - Adrien - what the fuck is going on?"

"We're getting you out of here."


	5. Chapter 5

"Did you fucking smoke a joint with breakfast? What the fuck is going on, Adrien?"

"First off, I don't understand your human idioms, so stop using them." His voice was curt, snappy, and impatient. "Secondly, if we hang around here for too long and question my decisions, I'm going to lose my nerve and you're going to die here. So take these," he threw a canteen and a ration bar at her, "Get through them as quickly as you can, and I'll explain the plan."

She sat in silence - partially so she could absorb everything he was saying, partially because she was so shocked she could form no words - and listened to his mad plan.

He didn't want to raise suspicion by promptly disappearing, so he had fabricated a letter from his mother stating that his father had passed from a sudden and violent illness; he had already spoken to Silvus who reluctantly agreed to give him a shuttle and short leave for the 'funeral'. What the captain didn't know was that Sadie would be following him throughout the ship via the vents, exiting at the cargo bay where they'd fly her to safety.

"This is fucking nuts," she muttered when he was finished.

"You have a better idea?" he growled.

"Not even close."

"Then let's get the hell out of here. They think I'm just grabbing the last of my things and I need to get you in the vent before Raxus comes to cover the rest of my guard shift. We're lucky that no one else checks on you so they won't raise the alarm until we're far away from the ship." He crouched onto his haunches, grabbed her arms, and threw her in a fireman's hold over his shoulders. Her broken bones protested as she jostled around on his shoulders, but she was far too smart to gripe about it.

He walked out of the cell into a narrow, empty hallway. "Where is everyone?" she inquired in a whisper. It felt eerie hearing nothing but the whirr of the engine.

"The Alliance is fighting back against us, so we had to send most of our men to support the troops." Instead of responding she only swallowed, hoping that her fellow Alliance soldiers took down the men who tortured her.

Victus suddenly stopped. "Here's the vent grate. How are your eyes? Can you see at all?"

"Barely."

"There's an omni-tool in the rucksack. I've already programmed the ship's layout onto it, so you can pull it up in case you get lost. Try to keep an eye on me through the grates and follow my voice, I don't want to get too far ahead of you."

"Ok." She had never used an omni-tool before, but if it was anything like the other turian technology she had encountered, she had faith that she could quickly sort it out.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

Although he always estimated humans to be light with all their soft and squishy parts, he never thought they were _that _light: she had to weigh as much as an eight-year-old turian girl. He effortlessly hoisted up her upper body so she was sitting on his shoulder. Through the narrow slits in her swollen eyelids she could see the grate, so she flipped it down and grabbed the sides. She was incredibly weak from malnutrition, so Victus had to grab her bony hips and help her lift herself into the vent before she pulled the grate closed behind her. "See you on the other side," he whispered to her.

"Yeah."

Although every broken bone, every torn muscle, every charred or cut inch of flesh cried in agony with each movement that she made, she refused to make a single sound. This was her only chance for survival, and she'd be damned if she fucked it up.

The ship was quiet - too quiet, almost - as she carefully followed the heavy sounds of Victus's footfalls. She hypothesized that his 'omni-tool' as he called it was somehow able to track her, because each time she reached a junction where she was unsure how to proceed she would hear him let out a quiet hum, or cough, or sigh; nothing loud, just enough to subtly announce his presence to ensure that she would remain on track. In spite of the fact that it took them fifteen minutes to traverse the massive ship - Sadie's tormented body made it feel closer to fifteen hours - they only ran into six turians, all of which passed on a brief greeting to Victus before continuing on with their days, completely oblivious to the human operative escaping in the vents directly above him. Adrien was proving to be an excellent actor: he had the correct morose expression and quiet demeanor of a man who just lost a loved one, and no one questioned him as he made his way to the docking bay.

When they reached their destination, it was completely empty spare three shuttles: one single-man shuttle (presumably reserved for Victus), one large transport shuttle, and one two-man shuttle. The rest of the ports were empty; the remainders of the shuttles were on the ground with the majority of the crew.

They were lucky. _Damn _lucky.

Through her narrowed slits, she could see Victus jog towards the grate she was directly above. The problem was, she was currently situated thirty feet off the ground.

"What the fuck do I do now?" she hissed.

"There's a knife in the rucksack, use it to loosen the screws."

"Not that you idiot, I meant how am I supposed to get down from here."

"Jump, I'll catch you."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Do you want to live or do you want to die up there?"

"I'll fucking die when you drop me, ass hat."

A feral growl ripped through his dual larynxes, a sound so predatorial and ferocious that it turned Sadie's legs to water. "_Spirits_, Sadie, are all humans as stubborn as you? You don't have a choice so stop arguing!"

She let out a dramatic sigh before dropping from the vent; to her chagrin, he effortlessly caught her in his strong and hard arms, and he even lowered himself to soften her landing. He pulled her in closer to his body to keep himself from jostling her and began to jog towards the shuttle. From her viewpoint, she could see that his jaw was set in fierce determination. He climbed up the entry ramp, closed it behind them, gently rested her on the singular bed, and took a seat behind the controls, his fingers flying over the HUD. The thrusters began to progressively whine and her whole body felt lighter as they began to lift off before flying away from the dreadnought.

Neither of them spared a glance at the _Izvestia _as they pulled away and it grew smaller and smaller behind them.

* * *

When they were several miles away from the ship - far enough that they had no chance to be in range of its sensors - Victus set the shuttle on autopilot and took a seat next to Sadie on the bed. Wordlessly he pulled medical supplies out from the ruck sack and began to methodically dress her wounds, starting at her feet and making his way to her head. She closed her eyes and let out a languid sigh as the medi-gel began to first numb the individual points of pain before beginning to peacefully cloud her mind. For the first time in weeks, she was free from pain, and the relief was palpable. The desire for sleep overcame her, but she had business to attend to first.

"I don't think thank you covers it," she muttered, her tongue thick from the meds. He didn't respond, but his mandibles flickered outwards and his brow plates moved inwards, portraying an obvious expression of concern. As her mind became more and more cloudy, her unfiltered thoughts spilled out.

"I've had a pretty shitty life you know, Adrien." As she spoke, he continued to work, massaging the medi-gel in, stitching the still-bleeding wounds, and applying antibiotics to the festering flesh. "I grew up in a really shitty neighbourhood in Detroit, the kind where you don't go out alone or at night. Both my parents were killed when I was fifteen; I was at a friend's house for a sleepover and somebody broke in, robbed them, and killed them both. We were so fucking broke that all we had was a couple hundred bucks and a shitty TV, and since that wasn't enough the guy killed them. Never got caught. No one does in Detroit, there are too many crimes to keep track of. I have no siblings and I didn't want to end up in an orphanage there where I would get the shit beaten out of me on a daily basis so I faked my age and joined the army. It was the only place that I could go. The army, the Alliance, the CIA, they think I'm 31, but I'm actually 28. After a fucking horrible year of basic I was assigned to covert ops because I'm so small and unfit for the front lines, and eventually the CIA did a big ass recruitment from covert ops and it turns out I was pretty fucking well suited for what they wanted."

Tears began to stream out of the corners of her eyes. He tenderly dabbed at them with a cloth, his eyes full of concern. "I had lots of money, I got laid, but I never had a lover. I never had friends. I've been a lone wolf since the day my parents died and you're the first goddamn person to actually _care_ about me since then. You're throwing away everything - your life, your career, your integrity - for me and you barely even know me. Before today, I didn't think such kindness existed in the galaxy; but, maybe I was just looking at the wrong race."

Her eyelashes, wet with tears, fluttered as she opened her swollen eyes as wide as possible to gaze into his own. "Why?" she inquired. "Why me? Why did you help me?"

He simply replied, "I could never live with myself if I didn't."

"You have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met, and anyone I will ever meet."

It was true that he had given everything he had to rescue her. He had given up his life, and his future in the military; he had given up any hope of returning to Palaven and resuming a normal life. But most importantly, he had lied, one of the greatest offenses known to the turian people, and had sacrificed his integrity as a result. He would forever remain an outlaw and a disgrace to his people.

What he couldn't fathom was why his heart continued to tell him that it was entirely worth it.

So he listened to his heart as he traced a talon along her cheekbone before closing his eyes, leaning down, and resting his forehead against hers with a content sigh. Although the gesture was not universal, she must have understood the connotations, for she grabbed beneath his fringe to pull him closer.

After a long silence where they simply enjoyed each other's company, Sadie muttered, "I'm falling asleep here, Adrien."

"Get your rest, we need you recovered. I'll just take a nap in the pilot's chair."

"Don't be fucking ridiculous." Her words were now so thick with sleep they were nearly indistinguishable. She flopped her hand on the bed beside her. "There's room for two."

He chuckled to himself - a pleasant rumble, deep in his throat. "If you insist."

"I do."

He crawled in beside her, and that night they learned that cuddling is universal.


	6. Chapter 6

Sadie slowly drifted back into consciousness with a smile on her face.

When she first realized that she was no longer in agonizing pain, she thought to herself that she must have finally died, and the visions of her escape with Adrien were conducted by her fleeting mind.

Her first impression of heaven was that it smelled wonderful; both musky and woodsy, with a faint undertone of something that reminded her of jasmine. An image of her father flitted into her mind, his warm smile encompassing his worn features as he rustled her hair before kissing her forehead. She missed him tickling her, although she would always insist that she hated it; she missed the way that he would slip her a piece of chocolate, even though her mother said 'no dessert!'; she even missed when she was very young and he would come home late from work, and when she expressed her displeasure at their lack of time together he would lecture her that hard work was the key to success in spite of his minimum wage position at a steel mill. Although she would never admit it, she always worshipped the ground that he walked on. Her smile grew at the knowledge that they would see each other soon, since the only possible explanation for her current situation was her death. She imagined that he would chastise her for her foul language and scorn her for dying her hair such an atrocious colour, and then smile that slightly crooked but infinitely loving smile before pulling her in for a bear hug.

Yet when her eyes finally fluttered open, it was not her father that she saw, but Adrien; he was on a small chair beside the bed, cleaning his pistol while humming tunelessly to himself. The doubt that had hung over him like a dark cloud had vanished; his eyes were bright and full of life, his mandibles were wide in a smile, and he had the air of a man who was both confident and content. Her limbs felt numb, but she reached her hand up to cup his cheek, and he closed his eyes and his mandible tickled her hand.

She wasn't in heaven yet, but this was damn close.

* * *

Now that she was awake, Adrien cared for her like a patient: he fed her a nutrient bar and a bottle of water, he carried her into the tiny washroom and helped her clean herself in the shower, he dressed all of her wounds and even fashioned a makeshift splint for her broken ankle so she could briefly hobble around the shuttle unassisted.

"What's the plan from here, anyways?" she asked him as she sat up in the bed, eating her second nutrient bar of the day. Although it was bland and dry, she was so famished that she finished it in three bites.

He input a series of commands into his omni-tool and a map of the galaxy appeared before her. "Shanxi is here," he explained, pointing at a small dot in the central lower portion of the map. "We're going to keep ourselves out of Citadel space, because there's a high risk of running into errant patrols. So we're going to take the long way through the Attican Traverse-" his talon ran along the right side of the map "-and into the Terminus Systems, where we'll dock at Omega."

"We'll be safe on Omega?"

"Not exactly. Omega is entirely lawless, so although we're safe from the authorities we'll still have mercenary bands and slavers to worry about."

"Sounds like my kind of place. But seeing as humans haven't exactly been accepted into the galactic community, how am I supposed to walk around these metropolises full of species that have never seen a fucking human before?"

"I'm glad that you asked." He input a code into his omni-tool, and with a shimmer, he disappeared.

"What the fuck!" she cried out. Her hands reached out for where he had been sitting on the bed beside her previously, and a sigh of relief escaped her when she could feel that he was still there.

With another shimmer he swiftly reappeared, and explained, "It's a tactical cloak. It's not perfect - you can see the outline of a person if you look closely, and of course others can still feel, hear, and smell you - but it will be enough to get you in unnoticed."

"Where will we go once we're in there?"

"I have a contact on the station, she'll help us out."

"You trust her?"

"Not exactly. But she owes me, and we're short on other options right now."

Residual pain hit her in a blinding flash, and she slipped herself down so she was lying on the bed and closed her eyes.

"Need something?" he inquired gently.

"More painkillers would be fucking fantastic."

With a chuckle he dug through the rucksack for the necessary supplies. From the corner of her eye she could see that he had filled it to the brim with various medical supplies. She was amazed that they managed to work on her, and it made her wonder if there were species in the galaxy more biologically similar to humans than turians are.

As he began to apply a thick, odorous salve to her wounds, she asked, "How many aliens are out there, anyways?"

"Humans are the real aliens." His mandibles flickered into what she was beginning to recognize as a smile. "I'm not an expert on the other species, but I can give you a briefing." He worked as he spoke, slowly healing her wounds, and she pulled up images of each species from the extranet on her omni-tool. "Asari, salarians, and turians form the Council species. The Council is comprised of a representative from each species and is the voice of the galaxy, making the decisions for the rest of us. Asari were the first space-faring species, they're monogendered, live for thousands of years and are natural biotics; they're the intelligence arm of the Council. The salarians are the recon arm: small, quick-witted, and untrustworthy, with incredible brain power and short life spans. Then there's the non-Council species: the quarians, the krogan, the elcor, the volus, the hanar, the vorcha, the batarians, and the drell. I've caught brief glances of all of them, but I have little interactive experience."

She marveled at the images as she listened to his descriptions. It was humbling realizing that humanity was a very small slice of the galactic pie: there were half a dozen other species out there, all with empires that were equal to or exceeded that of humanity, and all of which discovered space travel and the mass relays long before humans.

Never in her life had she felt so insignificant.

"Are the relations between the races often... amicable?"

He looked up to survey her briefly before continuing. The night before: the touching of their heads, sleeping in the same bed, did it have the same significance for her as it did for him? It would be foolish to make assumptions, but he hoped to broach the subject soon. "We cohabitate, if that's what you mean. There have been wars between species, but right now humans and turians are the only ones actively engaged in combat."

She shifted uneasily at that knowledge. Perhaps humans were unusually aggressive compared to the rest of the galaxy. "Turians... get ruffled easily," he continued. "We dedicate our lives to serving and protecting the turian people, so when any threat comes up we squash it without a thought. The krogans rebelled once, and our response was to dispel a genophage for the entire race that gave them a 99% stillbirth rate." He laughed harshly. "So don't take it personally that we started this war with you. It's just how we operate, and it's why the level headed nature of the asari works well with us on the Council."

"Humans are pretty fucking abrasive too," she conceded. "We were at a permanent state of war with each other until you guys came along."

"It's all a misunderstanding, isn't it? The whole war. It's because we're two races that are better with guns than we are with words."

"I admit we have more in common than I originally thought. In my eyes, turians were nothing but the enemy. If you had been one of the turians to try and stop me on the ship, I would have taken you down like the rest of them."

"You would have tried," he corrected with a wry flicker of his mandible. "Two weeks ago, I wished you were dead. Now I gave up everything to keep you alive. Yet I have no regrets."

"I've..." she paused to collect herself as her voice shook. "I've come to care about you, Adrien. You've done a hell of a lot for me: you've saved my life, and you've opened my eyes." With a soft laugh, she added, "Literally and figuratively."

"It's confusing having feelings for a human, but I have to listen to my heart, not my head." He ran an errant talon along her cheek, and she closed her eyes and let out a relaxed sigh. He lowered himself so he could rest his forehead against hers, matching her breathing pattern, reveling in her scent. He nearly jumped away before reminding himself that humans have different methods of affection when he felt soft, pliable lips against his hard mouth plates; she didn't move her mouth, she just took the moment to taste him before pulling away.

"You're yummy." She smacked her lips in satisfaction.

His hand ghosted up to his mouth. "What was that?"

"A kiss. Common human display of affection."

"Huh. I don't know how I feel yet, we'll have to do a few more trial runs before I fully form my opinion."

In response, she leaned up to kiss him again, but it was only brief before she again settled her head down on the pillow. "Normally we're more enthusiastic, but these painkillers are making me so damn hazy I can barely move."

"Get some rest then, I'll take the helm for a bit."

"'Kay." She rolled onto her side, a smile on her face. "If you want a break, I'll be here, waiting for cuddles."

He smiled at her fondly. "I'll keep that in mind."


	7. Chapter 7

It took the better part of four Palaven days to travel to the Omega Nebula, due to their intentionally long route as well as their stop to discharge the mass effect core. Sadie's injuries kept her mostly bedridden, but Adrien began to realize that the medication that he had was only able to help her so much: although her wounds had stopped bleeding, her recovery had halted after the first day of their trip. She needed medical attention.

When they finally made the jump from the Pylos Nebula to the Omega Nebula, he swallowed his pride to make the inevitable call.

"You have to be kidding me. Victus?"

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Good to see you too, Nyreen."

"Spirits, what are you doing here?"

"I need your help with a sensitive situation."

He watched her cover her eyes with an ungloved hand. Her talons were blunted, something he was sure that Aria imposed on her. He hoped things were going as well with them now as they were four years prior, thanks to him.

The Victus and Kandros families had been close in Adrien's youth. Although Adrien was older than Nyreen by four years, they had always gotten along well. He was the one who had placed a pistol in her hands for the first time, and in the process she was the one who had nearly gotten him shot for the first time. For four years, every time he had shore leave from basic she would be waiting at his house, regardless of the hour, practically bouncing in excitement as he regaled her with stories of training exercises and shooting krogan holograms.

"I can't wait until I'm fifteen and leaving for basic," she would say. "I'm going to be strong and fast, just like you!"

By the time her wish was granted and she joined basic, Adrien was dedicated to full duty and the pair dropped out of correspondence until four years ago.

He remembered the day clearly. He had just returned from a three-day long ground recon trip, and he was exhausted and sick of ration bars. He had finally checked his messages, and was shocked to see that ten of them were from Nyreen. Although the wording slightly differed in each message, the idea was the same: _I need out. Now._ So he forgot his weariness and immediately called her.

When she answered his comm wave, her eyes were wild but bright with an unstokable fire. "Adrien. Thank the Spirits you called. I need out, now."

"Out? What do you mean out?"

"Out of service. I can't do this anymore. I need to be on Omega."

"Omega? What in the name of the Spirits is so important on that shit hole?"

Her expression softened, and in her subvocals he could hear an incredible longing. "I'm in love."

_You have to be kidding, _he thought to himself. "You want me to somehow get you out of service because you're in love? This is insane, Nyreen."

"Please, Adrien, I'm begging you. I can't do this without you. I just need you to talk to your father to have my posting switched to one on Omega. One five minute comm wave and you'll make your old friend a very happy woman."

He let out a long sigh. "Who is the lucky man, anyways?"

She rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably. "Not a man, per se..."

"What? A she? A hanar? An asari?"

At his last query, he watched her eyes grow misty. His subvocals reflecting his surprise, he commented, "I never knew that ladies were your preference."

"Not normally. She's an exception."

"What's her name?"

"Aria T'Loak."

His subvocals quickly changed to express disapproval. "Are you insane, Nyreen?"

"I love her, Adrien! She loves me, too!"

The impressive naivety of young love. He wondered if Nyreen knew that Aria was queen of the underworld, a dull light atop a pile of scum, a woman who in her 800 or so years has killed more people - both just and unjust - than every soldier on Nyreen's ship combined and multiplied by one hundred. "Fine," he acquiesced with a grumble. "I'll send the request for a transfer to Omega for you. No promises. You owe me for this."

"Thank you, Adrien, thank you! I owe you my life!"

He had sent the request through, and although his father initially declined it, he had called him and enthusiastically explained how he thought that it would be the best for Nyreen. His father reluctantly accepted, and three months later, Nyreen was based in the Omega Nebula. She proceeded to somehow convince her Ship Master that the station itself was the place where she could do the most good, and she and Aria were finally reunited.

The woman before him and the woman from his memories could not be more different: in her youth she had been bright, intelligent, innocent, and hopeful; now she was cautious, weary, and worn. Although he knew she hadn't forgotten her debt to him, he hoped that she hadn't lost her almost angelic moral compass.

"What kind of situation?"

"It's a long story, one I'd prefer to not retell over unsecure channels. Can you meet me at the docking bay?"

She leaned back in her seat and rubbed her mouth, an old nervous habit he recognized immediately. "I have a life here, Adrien; I can't just drop everything because you strolled in the door."

"You know I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't of the utmost importance."

"Are you alone?"

He let out a short sigh. "No. I have someone else with me. She's gravely injured and needs medical help and protection."

Nyreen continued to rub her mouth. "Fine. Dock in bay F, send me a wave when you're a quarter hour out so I can meet you there. This better be good." She unceremoniously closed the connection, and Victus leaned back in his chair to rub his eyes.

Sadie's weak voice drifted up from the bed. "How long until we dock?"

"Two hours."

"I'm stirring up a lot of shit, aren't I?"

He smiled wearily. "You are. But you're worth it."

Although the corners of her lips turned up to return his smile, her eyes were hauntingly bleak.

* * *

"Adrien, why the hell are you rubbing yourself all over me?"

"Humans and asari have a very weak sense of smell," he explained as he rubbed his arm across her chest. "Turians have a good sense of smell; not excellent, but we can distinguish the scent of different species. Krogans and batarians, however, have an excellent sense of smell: not only can they distinguish different species and genders, they can even smell fear and arousal. To a krogan or a batarian - which Omega is littered with - your unique human scent will immediately draw attention, so I'm trying to cover it up with my scent so they don't notice you as easily."

In spite of the fact that nervousness had been trained out of Sadie, the thought of either the thousand-pound krogan or four-eyed batarian catching her sent a shiver of fear through her body.

As Adrien took the helm to ease them into dock, she stood slowly to stretch her weary limbs. Each movement sent a jolt of painful protest through her limbs and she took a series of deep breaths to swallow the pain. She hoped their trip would be short, for she didn't think she could walk for long.

The shuttle gave a sharp lurch and threw her off her feet and back onto the bed, forcing a cry of pain out of her lips. As soon as the shuttle steadied and halted Adrien ran back to check on her, running his hands over her body to make sure his poor landing didn't further any of her injuries.

"I'm fine," she hissed. "This fucking broken ankle isn't doing me any favours, though."

"We haven't gotten this far to be defeated by a leg, I'll carry your cloaked self if I have to."

"That'll look great, you walking around with your arms bent in front of you like a butler who forgot his fucking tray."

"We'll...figure it out as we go. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

He grabbed her arm with both hands to help her up, steadying her when she briefly swayed on the spot, and she wrapped her arm around his waist to support herself before planting a kiss on his cheek. Briefly resting his head atop hers, he closed his eyes and breathed her in to collect himself before typing the tactical cloak program into her omni-tool. "Let's do this," he said.

He walked slowly to allow her to keep up as he stepped out of the shuttle onto the docking bay. The reek of desolation and despair assaulted his senses, and his nose curled up in displeasure. He heard Sadie whisper "fucking gross" behind him.

Although he expected Nyreen, to his intense displeasure their welcoming committee was a krogan and a salarian at the end of the dock. The krogan was clearly a mercenary, clad in heavy armour and toting a shotgun while the salarian was slight and fidgety, carrying what he assumed was a weapons bag but what he hoped was a medical bag.

Victus stopped well out of their range, so he had to shout to ensure that he was heard. "Who are you?"

"We're taking you to Aria," the krogan called back.

"And why would I want to go to Aria?"

The krogan tightened his grip on his shotgun. "If Aria wants you to see her, it's wise for you to listen."

Adrien rolled his eyes. Clearly, Aria's ego had only grown. "I'm not going anywhere until I see the woman I came here to see, and that's not Aria."

To his dismay, the krogan began to approach him. "If you want to live much longer, boy, I'd recommend that you come with us."

Adrien rested his hand on his pistol in the holster at his hip. He wasn't foolish enough to come onto Omega empty-handed, regardless of Nyreen's promises. "I'm staying right here until I'm damn well ready."

The krogan raised his weapon. "You'll be staying there for the rest of your short life unless you fucking move."

Adrien responded by raising his own weapon. "Are you threatening me?"

"Damn straight I am."

"Stand down Rond. You too, Victus."

The queen herself had arrived, sauntering in like she owned the place. Frankly, Aria _did _own the place.

Sadie had to cover her mouth to hide her gasp as she watched the situation unfurl before her. Three new species of aliens that she had never seen before - that _humanity_ had never seen before - were interacting like it was perfectly normal. To see four species coexist was jarring. The one who drew her eye the most was Aria: although she was dressed in civilian clothes that clung to her curvy blue form, she didn't require the armour to intimidate. Blue electricity was balled in the palm of her hands, and although Sadie knew little of the biotics that Adrien had spoken of, Aria made her fear them. She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding when both Adrien and the krogan lowered their weapons and Aria lowered her hands.

The krogan, however, wasn't entirely appeased. He stepped towards Adrien so that his face was only inches away, but the turian did not waver. "You reek," the krogan spat, "Worse than Omega. Don't overextend your welcome."

"I said stand down, Rond." Aria didn't need to raise her voice to intimidate the bulky krogan, who curled his lip before taking a hesitant step away from Adrien. He eventually turned and retreated out of earshot to where the salarian still stood.

"Where's Nyreen?" Victus asked.

"Waiting for us at the safe house. I wanted to make sure you didn't bring anything..." Her eyes momentarily flickered to where Sadie stood, cloaked, before darting back to Adrien. "...Unexpected. Nyreen said you wouldn't be alone."

"That is between Nyreen and myself."

"Her business is my business."

"Quite the nosy girlfriend, aren't you?"

Aria scowled. "Do as I say or get the fuck off my rock."

"This is between Nyreen and I," he repeated.

"Do you see Jaedon over there?" she pointed to the waiting salarian. "In that bag he has both the medical supplies that can help you, and the medical supplies that can grant you a slow and painful death. It's your choice."

Adrien's agonized eyes flickered between Aria and Jaedon. "Who did you bring with you, Adrien?"

"A human."

Aria's expression rapidly changed from anger to curiosity, and once again her eyes roamed to where Sadie stood. Aria knew that the human was wearing a tactical cloak from the telltale distortions of the air and shimmer when the light hit her quite right. She had a hard time distinguishing details, but she estimated that the creature was around the size of an asari, perhaps slightly smaller.

This spiked her curiosity unlike anything else. She would be the first asari to actually _see_ this new galactic intruder.

"Why the fuck do you have a human?"

"It's a long story. One I'd prefer to recollect in a more secure area."

"And it's been injured?"

Sadie was disgusted by Aria's tone: she made her sound like an animal. "_She_ has been injured," Victus countered.

Aria licked her lips hungrily. "Rond and Jaedon will accompany us to my safe house. From there, Rond will stand guard and Jaedon will attempt to treat her. You better have a fucking good explanation, Victus." Adrien let out a long sigh of acquiescence. "Keep her close to you, we need to cover her scent."

Sadie didn't require further instruction; she reached to grasp Adrien's hand and followed him through the winding streets of Omega.

* * *

The safe house was tucked deep into an alley shrouded by darkness. Although several sleazily-dressed asari roamed the area, Victus had the distinct impression that they were under Aria's employment. One of them winked at him, and he turned away in disgust.

The door was innocuous, black and covered in graffiti in all dialects, and it lead them through a windowless hallway to a dinghy lift. He could feel Sadie's grip on his hand tighten as her breathing became a desperate pant, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"We almost there, Aria?" he asked.

"So impatient," she cooed, stepping onto the elevator. Sadie tucked herself into a corner behind him as Aria input a code into the keypad and the floor rumbled beneath them before the lift jerked into action, carrying them to the tenth floor.

Another windowless corridor, another graffiti-covered door, another keypad for Aria to input a code. The door slid open with a hiss to reveal a penthouse-style apartment: large, lavish, and empty except for the turian woman Sadie recognized from the vid call sprawled on a plush couch with a datapad in her taloned hand. The walls were a rich mahogany and the accents were gold, giving the immediate impression of wealth.

The woman rose gracefully and approached the group, dropping the datapad on the wooden coffee table. She spared a brief kiss for Aria before standing with her hands on her hips before Adrien. "Well?" she asked. "What's this fuss about, Adrien?"

Aria nodded at the krogan, who closed the door behind them to stand guard outside. Jaedon took a seat at the nearby loveseat and opened his medical bag, rifling through to pull out various pieces of equipment and syringes.

Adrien approached Sadie, fumbling for her arm before shutting down the tactical cloak.

"Spirits!" Nyreen shouted, at the same time that Aria cried, "Goddess!"

With a distinct growl, Nyreen demanded, "What the hell is going on, Victus?"

"You lied," Aria hissed, "She's just a quarian out of her suit."

"I'm not a quarian!" Sadie snapped. "I'm a human! Now can I please fucking sit down, my ankle is killing me!"

Adrien grabbed her arm and lead her to the couch, placing her gently into a lying down position before taking a seat next to her on the floor. Jaedon flew to work immediately, scanning her with his omni-tool.

"How can we know she's not a quarian?" Nyreen inquired. In response, Adrien held up one of Sadie's hands and said, "Five fingers, not three."

Aria and Nyreen approached her tentatively, maintaining their distance while examining her. She was breathing heavily from exertion, her black bruises and red wounds contrasting with her alabaster skin.

"She's so frail," Nyreen whispered, leaning closer. "Do they normally have those black and red spots?"

Holding tight to Sadie's hand for support, Adrien launched into the tale of Sadie's capture, incarceration, torture, and subsequent escape. Aria and Nyreen were wordless, collapsing into a chair together as they listened with rapt attentiveness.

Jaedon stood and returned his supplies to his bag. "I need a larger space to operate. May I take her to the guest bedroom?"

"Of course," Nyreen responded with a surprising amount of tenderness in her subvocals. Adrien scooped her up in his arms and followed Jaedon, laying her down on the bed and resting his forehead against hers briefly before returning to the main room.

"What will you do now?" Nyreen asked in hushed tones.

He rested his palm against his eyes, and was surprised when he heard a clunk as Aria dropped a glass of water for him on the table. He drank it greedily before answering. "I don't know," he confessed. "Anywhere is safer than on the _Izvestia_, but I'm short on options. I could send her back to Earth, but she's at risk of being tracked down by her own people. I can't take her anywhere else in galactic space because she'll be unsafe and I wouldn't be surprised if Silvus hunts for her."

"You really care about her, don't you?"

Without hesitation, he responded, "Yes."

Aria stood and headed to the kitchen. "Let me grab us some food."

Adrien leaned forward in his chair and rested his head in his hands. He felt Nyreen's warm grip on his shoulder. "We'll figure something out."

"When we were younger and I helped you get onto Omega, I thought you were insane. Now, I can understand how you were willing to drop everything to be with her. My priorities were once my duties to the hierarchy, but now all I care about is making sure she's safe, regardless of the cost."

Nyreen rested her forehead against his. "We'll find a way to keep her safe. We have to."


	8. Chapter 8

Kaius Vakarian let out a long groan as he settled into his cot, finally granted a brief rest from his endless work.

Since the vast majority of the soldiers were on the ground fighting, the few left on the ship worked ceaselessly to ensure that all systems were operating at optimal capacities as well as maintaining patrols. He had worked three twenty-hour work days in a row and Silvus was finally allowing his 'finest soldier' to rest for six hours before he reset the targeting parameters and recalibrated the Thanix tomorrow.

That was just the typical style of his Captain: flatter you and offer you a small condolence before asking you to complete a fifteen-hour job.

Although Kaius would never vocalize it, he thought Silvus was a complete asshole. He asked too much and gave too little, and if you denied any of his requests or failed him in the slightest you were bound for a dishonourable discharge. After a dishonourable discharge it's nearly impossible to hold a position in the hierarchy; as a result, dozens of soldiers that were previously under the command of Silvus regressed to lives of crime and piracy.

He had even heard distant rumours that half of the turians in the Talon mercenary group on Omega were from the _Izvestia_.

But that was the way of the turian people. Do what it takes to get the job done, regardless of the cost, and that was just why Silvus had risen through the ranks so quickly (even if the power had a tendency to go to his head).

The door to the crew quarters swung open and Junior Serviceman Quintin stumbled in, his eyes already half-closed. He spared Kaius a brief nod before collapsing face first onto his bed and immediately falling asleep. Realizing that he should do the same, Kaius rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, his weary muscles letting out aching pulses as he slipped into unconsciousness.

As usual, he dreamed of his wife Tallia and his infant son, Garrus. In his dream, he came home from his tour to find Tallia in their small kitchen, illuminated by the sun peeking through the envelope-sized window. He could even smell her cooking, saltier but more robust than his mother's cooking. She turned to face him, her mandibles pulled outward in the brightest of smiles, and ran to rest her forehead against his, warmth radiating from every inch of her skin. With her arm wrapped around his waist and his around her shoulders, they turned to face Garrus, who sat at the table mouthing gibberish while he tore pieces off of his newest toy before throwing them across the table with short fingers and shouting triumphantly.

"VAKARIAN! QUINTIN! UP! NOW!"

The roaring voice interrupted his dreams, and to his dismay Tallia and Garrus were fading. Was Silvus even intruding into his dreams?

"RISE AND SHINE! Admiral Vanorn will be here in ONE HOUR and you will be escorting him to the prisoner with me. LET'S GO! I expect you in the cargo bay in three quarters of an hour!"

Light swiftly intruded into his eyes, and Kaius covered them with his arm until he could regain a semblance of consciousness.

"What time is it?" he whispered to Quintin.

The Junior Serviceman let out a long groan. "You have to be kidding me. It's 0300 hours. I fell asleep two hours ago."

Vakarian threw his aching legs over the side of the bed, massaging them before stepping into his greaves and boots. He continued to dress slowly as he attempted - and failed - to keep the image of his family in the forefront of his mind.

But that's the hierarchy: duty first and family second, regardless of your individual desires.

He scarfed down an MRE and a bottle of water before the bleary-eyed Quintin followed him to the cargo bay half way across the ship.

"Do you ever miss training?" Quintin asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"Which part, when we crawled through the mud in the rain or when we had to wake up at 0400 hours to run a full lap of the base?"

"That part sucked, yeah. But it was a simpler time. No war, no prisoners. I had a hot little trainee I used to shack up with behind the mess hall, and a good group of friends by my side. Now all we have is a permanently pissed off Ship Master and we're fighting a group of aliens who don't even know what an omni-tool is."

Vakarian sighed. Quintin was so young and naive, but had a natural talent with a sniper rifle and an eagerness to obey orders. "When you get a little older and have a family, you'll understand better. I miss my wife and son every day, but I do this to protect them; otherwise, those savage aliens could ravage Palaven."

"Don't know how dangerous they are when they're as small as asari and as intelligent as krogan."

"Underestimating your enemy is a weakness," lectured Kaius. Quintin lapsed into silence as they turned into the docking bay.

"You're late," Silvus growled as Vakarian and Quintin snapped salutes. They were on time, but for Silvus, on time was late and early was on time. "Stand post by the door and look sharp." The soldiers obliged and equipped their assault rifles in a gesture of protection, not aggression.

Silvus stalked around the cargo bay, a distinct scowl plastered onto his face, until the three-man shuttle approached and requested entry.

Although Senior Ship Master Silvus was a tall turian, Admiral Vanorn dwarfed him. He wore heavy armour to cover most of his scarred carapace, and his blood red markings were a stark contrast to his ashy grey plates. His eyes were narrowed in distrust, and he had two pistols equipped in hip holsters as well as a shotgun and an assault rifle strapped to his back. Even the sound of his boots ringing against the floor and his deep subtones were menacing. His looks well-suited his reputation as heartless.

Perhaps it ran in his blood: his great-grandfather had been the man who had executed the genophage. Perhaps it was the desire for revenge: batarian slavers had kidnapped his wife and raped and murdered her after Vanorn paid the ransom. All that Vakarian knew was that this was the man who had called for the slaughter of an entire batarian colony (over 2,000 citizens, half of whom were innocent women and children) and had sentenced two hundred of his men to death as a result.

He received a commendation and a rank promotion for his 'heroic work'.

Vanorn, flanked by two officers, towered over the cowering Silvus as they spoke just out of Vakarian's range. The officers waited by the ship as Vanorn passed Quintin and Vakarian without acknowledgement, regardless of their simultaneous salutes. Silvus lead the group towards block D, bragging about inconsequential numbers to the uninterested Admiral.

"What's he doing here, anyways?" Quintin whispered to Vakarian, his voice low enough that it didn't carry.

"Interrogations, I'd say."

Quintin shivered faintly. "Wouldn't want him interrogating me, that's for sure."

"You kidding me? You'd shit your greaves and spill your guts before he even touched you."

Quintin elbowed Vakarian playfully; Silvus caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and shot them a glare that could stop a charging krogan in its tracks. Quintin flushed and collected himself, and for the remainder of the trip to the cell block they kept silent.

"She came in through the ventilation shafts," Silvus was explaining as they entered the block. Even though they were on the same ship, the air seemed to gain an unnatural chill. "Vakarian was the one who managed to stop and capture her." Although Silvus gestured at Kaius, Vanorn only had eyes for the door.

Silvus opened it smoothly, and cried out in dismay when he realized that it was empty. He entered the cell and stepped in circles around it, murmuring to himself in fear.

His big chance was stepping away from him.

An Admiral was _finally _on his ship. Sure, Vanorn was here for the human and not for Silvus, but that was inconsequential. Silvus hoped that if he had impressed Vanorn with his ship maintenance and handling of the prisoner, he would finally be considered for a position as an Admiral. So what if he had to overwork his soldiers? So what if he had to torture the girl mercilessly? In order to succeed, one must take selfish actions, and he would be free of all of them when he had a fleet to command. He had worked himself to the bone every day for nearly twenty years, but the power and wealth of his dreams was within his grasp.

That was until the prisoner disappeared, and his dreams slipped through his fingers like smoke.

"Quintin!" Silvus shouted, his subvocals shaking with fear. "Did you check on the prisoner on your last guard shift?"

"No sir, I was not on duty during her appointed meal times and you strictly stated not to interact unless it is-"

"I will have you discharged!" His subvocals had now slipped high into the upper registers, his eyes wide and his plates pale. "Start a ship wide search, right this moment, we need every soldier on-"

"I'm disappointed, Silvus." The cold, calculating tone sent a shiver straight through Kaius's bones. "You have me taken away from my fleet to be sent here to gaze upon an empty cell?"

"She must be on the ship, she was clearly a proficient fight-"

Other than slightly raising his voice, Vanorn continued as if Silvus had never interrupted him. "I will be taking you back to my fleet for further questioning regarding the incident, until you are proven innocent command of your ship will be released to your second-in-command."

"No, please, I beg of you, I will find her, just do not take my ship away!"

Vanorn gazed at Silvus coldly as he begged and pleaded. The two officers swiftly rounded the corner - they must have been following the group to have arrived so quickly - and grabbed Silvus by the arms to drag him into the docking bay as he kicked, screamed, and swore, spit flying from his mouth as he eyes darted across the room wildly.

"That went well," drawled Vanorn. He nodded at Quintin and Vakarian before following the screaming Silvus out of the cell block.

After a long period of silence where the men listened to Silvus's curses until they were drowned out, Quintin turned to Vakarian. "You think she's still on the ship?"

Kaius shrugged. "She clearly outsmarted us. I don't know where she is, but I respect her enough to not want to find her."

"You think Victus has anything to do with this?"

He shot Quintin a sideways glance. "Victus?"

"He just left a few days ago. Could he have helped her get out in the mean time?"

Kaius was very fond of Victus. The man had shown a strong moral compass, good work ethic and an unsurpassed dedication to his people. He believed he was destined to move up through the ranks; as a result, even if Victus played a part in this, Vakarian wouldn't shove him under the bus. "Hard to say. She's proven resourceful enough that she could have found her own way, or he could have helped. Either way, that's Silvus's problem now, not ours. We should just try and get a good night's sleep and hope that our days will be a bit quieter until Silvus gets back."

"Agreed."

* * *

"I'm impressed."

"Can't even tell that she's in there."

"I can't smell a thing, either."

"Damn good work, Jaedon."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Victus, Aria, Nyreen, and Jaedon were analyzing a perturbed Sadie.

"So, there's a whole species that walks around in these?" Sadie pulled the suit away from her body and released it with a snap. "It's fucking uncomfortable."

"That's what they get for releasing rogue AI on the galaxy," Nyreen grumbled as she began to circle Sadie, inspecting her suit.

"They did?"

Aria let out a long sigh. "You're going to have to learn a lot before you can pass as a quarian."

"Well pardon me for being thrust into the intergalactic community and spending my six days there getting my sorry ass patched up enough that I won't die."

Aria shot a sideways glance at Victus. "You sure picked one with attitude."

His mandibles flickered into a smile, but his eyes did not light up as usual. "That's just why I like her."

Nyreen interrupted their conversation. "Talk me through this suit, Jaedon. How can we be sure she won't be recognized?"

"Only a turian has a chance of recognizing a human, but I did enable some countermeasures. This suit was taken directly from a quarian, I just need to make some minor modifications.

"First, she has the standard air filtration system and on board suit filters, which prevents scents from getting into her suit as well as out. I'll be modifying the gloves so it tucks her two middle fingers in to her palm and extends her first and last fingers out through cybernetic attachments. It will be tricky to use a terminal at first, but the cybernetics are connected directly to the nerves so she'll find them fully responsive. I'll also be fitting cybernetic attachments to her legs to replicate the angles of quarian legs, and the boots will need to be slightly modified as well. Between her recovery, suit modifications, and language download into her translator, she should be ready to go out and about in two weeks."

"I look forward to the finished product."

"Can I get out of this thing now?" Sadie grumbled. "The mask pisses me off."

"Better get used to it, honey, because you're stuck with it until humans want to start playing nice-nice."

Sadie was suddenly grateful of the mask as she rolled her eyes dramatically before stepping into the bedroom she and Victus had been sharing. He hesitated before excusing himself to follow her.

The door slipped shut behind him, and when he turned to her he was faced with her bare back. A shiver racked his body as his eyes trailed down her spine, a perfect valley in the hills of her back; however, the picture was marred with bright red scars like a great battle on the hills, a brutal reminder of the fate he rescued her from. She spun to face him, the corners of her lips wrinkling like parentheses around her heart-shaped mouth as she smiled. "Hey there." Her tone was sultry, deep and warm and familiar from their nights lying in bed together.

_She will not be able to engage in intercourse, _Jaedon had said after his primary examination. _The damage is too extensive. _

As his eyes roamed over the soft lines of the human woman before him, Adrien mentally cursed Silvus and his sadistic methods of torture.

Sadie took a step towards him and rested her hand on his chest above his heart, feeling its rapid pulse. With the helmet removed he could gaze into her eyes - no longer swollen and indistinguishable, but now bright and intelligent with secrets unknown buried within their depths - and see the hope within.

He wanted to break the dam of his secrecy and doubts, but he found himself unable to when faced with the shining light of her hope. He wished to confess the lustful need for her that had awoken during her recovery and left him sleepless, the urge to divulge the strength of his feelings for her, and the even stronger desire to leave this filthy excuse for a port and return to his people where he belonged.

War was raging within him, but he knew that two of those desires would never be fulfilled: for he would never again be a turian whole, and she would never again be a woman whole.

So in lieu of confessing he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in tight to his chest, inhaling the scent of her hair as blue as Earth's skies on a sunny day.

Although he was plagued by uncertainty, of one thing he was sure: her safety was his top priority.


	9. Chapter 9

It had been the week from hell.

Kaius should have been wise enough to know that the work would not become easier just because Silvus was gone. His successor, Praxus, was not as fond of discharging his subordinates, but he was just as fond of fifteen-hour work days.

Cracking his neck from side-to-side he pulled his chair up to the communication terminal. Victus had been due to return two days prior, and Kaius had begun to worry. He punched in Victus's comm code and took a long drink of water as he waited for it to connect.

"Adrien Victus." His voice was muddled and his face continually flashed in and out with static.

"Victus? Kaius Vakarian here. How's the family?"

Luckily for Adrien, a static flash covered the blatant shock on his face. He quickly masked his surprise to answer. "My mother's not handling things so well; I'm doing what I can to help. How are things on the ship?"

"Admiral Vanorn came to interrogate our little prisoner, and it turns out she pulled a disappearing act. He didn't say it outright, but Silvus was decommissioned on the spot."

"Damn," Victus muttered. "Vanorn's a tough bastard."

"His reputation precedes him."

"Did they catch the prisoner again?"

"New SM, Praxus, ordered a ship wide search. We checked everything from the plumbing to the engine and we couldn't find a trace of her. No idea how she managed to get out, but she had help somewhere along the line. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you Victus?"

His responding laugh was too loud, too manic. "Don't trust me, Vakarian?"

"'Course I do. Just joking with you. Anyways, when are you coming back? It's quieter without Silvus, but Praxus is being sure to work us just as hard."

Victus's eyes roamed around the room to quickly check if he was alone. "You're selling it well, Kaius."

"It would be nice to have another trusted face."

"I'll do my best."

"Duty calls. Let me know when you're on the way back."

As the comm clicked closed, Victus leaned to rest his head in his hands with a long sigh.

To his dismay, he heard swift, quiet footsteps exit the room before the door banged shut behind him.

* * *

It came as no surprise that he found Sadie on the apartment's spacious balcony. Facing the dingy spaceport, her eyes were trained on two vorcha that scuffled over a hunk of meat. She leaned on the railing, her bright hair brushing against her shoulders in the breeze, one of those awful-smelling 'cigarettes' she was so fond of poking out of the corner of her mouth. In the two weeks since their arrival, she had nearly recovered entirely, and he found himself in awe at the potential for beauty within the human race. The lines of her body and face were soft and delicate, her eyes were alive with fire and passion buried within her spirit, and each movement was calculated and graceful, like a hunter luring in its prey. She took a long drag of the cigarette, held the smoke in her lungs for a few seconds, and sent the smoke out her nose like an angry bull.

"Sadie." Not a trace of firmness was found in his tone, only gentleness. He leaned his side against the rail so he could face her, but she did not face him and her eyes remained on the vorcha.

"I heard everything, so don't bother trying to sugarcoat it. They don't know that you did this, and they want you back."

"Sadie-"

"Stop." Her tone was curt and snappy. "Don't fucking lie to me and say that you want to stay here with me. I'm not a goddamn idiot. I've seen it in your eyes every fucking day since we've landed in this shit hole: you want to be back there, serving with your people, doing your duty. Not here, on this infested rock, surrounded by scum and filth. You've hated every fucking minute of this!"

"Sadie-"

Finally, she turned to face him, her eyes ablaze. Her cigarette was positioned between her first and second fingers, and it left a trail of smoke behind it whenever she moved her hands. "What do you think I am? A princess that needs rescuing? Fuck that, I'm a lone warrior, I have been my whole life. What kind of fucking person would I be if I made you stay on this stinky ass asteroid just to keep me company? You've saved my life and the last goddamn thing I'll do is take away yours. You belong with your people, in your army, on your way to greatness."

He grasped her shoulders with firm hands. "I belong with you."

She spun away so quickly that his hands fell limply to his sides. When he turned to peer into her eyes, they were glistening with tears. "I like you, Adrien. I like you a fucking lot. But regardless of our feelings, when we boil it down, I'm human and you're turian. We're aliens to each other for fuck's sakes! Not just aliens, but fucking enemies. How in the name of God are we expected to have a life together? We can't go out in public together without me wearing a suit and a lie, we can't have sex because your son of a bitch ex-Ship Master burned off my cunt, we can't get married or have a family together. I like you so damn much that I want to see you go home, meet a hot turian babe, and have all of those things and more. Because if anyone deserves happiness, it's you."

"You make me happy," he whispered. But in his voice there was no conviction, because he knew that she was right. Every force in the galaxy was working against them, and how much would it cost to keep them together? Did he not desire greatly to return to his people, his duty, the only life he knew until the day that she strolled onto the _Izvestia_?

But that wasn't what mattered to him. With the help of Nyreen, Aria, and Jaedon he had assured her safety, but what of her happiness? He couldn't simply leave her on Omega to fend for herself. Sure, Aria had offered her a position on her personal guard in exchange for her safety, but she would live a life of loneliness so that she could hide what she really was: a human, and a rogue agent. He would give up the life of happiness to ensure that she could have but a slice of her own happiness.

"I'm staying," he stated firmly.

She rose up onto her toes so she could put her face as close to his as possible, but it still only brought her to the height of his chest. "If you stay," she growled, "I'm calling up that Vakarian guy right now. He can find out the truth that you rescued me and we can see how fucking well things go from there. This is your chance to go back to normalcy, don't be an idiot and miss it."

"You wouldn't."

Her eyes narrowed, and she spat, "Fucking try me."

Their eyes locked they stared each other down in a battle of wills, both of them desperate to sacrifice their own happiness to provide it to the other. After a long moment charged with electricity, Adrien said, "If you call Vakarian, they'll know where you are, and they'll find you."

"Don't make me fucking do it then."

"I have never in my life met a species as fucking stubborn as humans."

"And never again will you."

His mouth plates began to tremble as the weight of his decision overwhelmed him, but he knew she had backed him into a corner. If Sadie was anything she was a woman of her word, and he knew she'd be on a call with Kaius before she spared the consequences a second thought. He was about to let a woman that he was growing to love slip through his hands like sand, but she cared about him so greatly in return that she had left him no choice but to let her go.

"Just..." He paused and gripped her waist, pulling her close. His subvocals took on a pleading tone. "Take care of yourself. I would never be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you after I left."

She leaned upwards to give him a long, slow kiss. When they pulled apart, she commented in a snarky tone, "Please, I'm better trained than ninety percent of this goddamn rock. Have a little faith."

It was easy to forget how strong she truly was when he had found her in her greatest moment of weakness.


	10. Chapter 10

"Whatever you do, avoid quarians at all costs because there are few things they like to talk about more than life on the flotilla. Volus may look like a stupid, round, short species but they're quick-witted and a damn sight better with money than any other species so they'll clean out your bank account without a second thought. Krogans may look dumb but some of them will surprise you, so don't underestimate their intelligence. Batarians value gestures highly, and even nodding your head the wrong way can be offensive so just avoid batarians. Salarians-"

"Adrien." She interrupted him gently. "I'm not going to avoid everyone and hide inside all the time, I'll go fucking nuts. Everyone else has figured it out, I'm sure that I will too. And if I get a few bumps and bruises on the way, well, life wouldn't be interesting without a few fights."

He let out a deep sigh, yet he was not entirely prepared for acquiescence. "Stick with Nyreen and Aria as much as you can. They'll take care of you. Whatever you do, in the name of the Spirits, stay out of the Gozu district, they don't like quarians there."

She tilted her head fondly. The day they had both dreaded had come, and his shuttle was due to depart within the hour. Although she had wanted to accompany him to the docks, her suit modifications were not entirely completed and Adrien did not want to take any risks. As a result, their goodbyes were reserved to Aria's safe house, with an impatient Rond waiting by the door to escort Victus.

"I've programmed your omni-tool so when you send outgoing messages it's embedded with a turian signal, but don't send any classified information, just to be safe. If you ever need me, there's an emergency alarm coded to your voice, you just have to say 'help me Adrien' into the mic and I'll be on my way within five minutes. Don't even hesitate, I don't care if it's a false alarm, I-"

She grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him towards her to silence him with a deep kiss. With a sigh he parted his mouth plates, allowing her tongue to caress his while he ran his hands up and down her back.

When their lips parted he rested his forehead on hers and they allowed themselves a moment to bask in each other's presence. Collecting his bravery, in a shaky voice he muttered, "I love you." Without hesitation, Sadie responded, "I love you, too."

For fear of losing his nerve, he let go of her and turned to leave, sending her one last forlorn glance before the door shut behind him.

He returned to his shuttle in silence, fearing that he had left behind the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

* * *

Sadie stood by the door for ten minutes, waiting for it to swing open and reveal Adrien, who would shout 'just kidding, I'm staying!' before they lived happily ever after.

_No. This is for the best. I can't take his life away for my own selfish purposes. Remember and cherish his love, but it's time to be grateful for his gift of my life. I love him, and because I do I need to let him go._

She went into their previously shared room and sat down on the bed, feeling it bounce underneath her weight. She pulled out her omni-tool, smiling fondly at all the changes he had made so that they could keep in touch. Pulling up his contact information, she typed him a quick message before hitting send and bursting into a waterfall of tears.

_Just to let you know, my real name is Danica. Danica Janice Nought._

_Thank you, Adrien. I will always love you._

* * *

Primarch Victus slowly swirled his drink, watching the tiny straw spin in circles along the rim of the glass like a carousel. He wished in that moment that he could drown in the tiny drink, forget about his loneliness and the war against the Reapers, and forget about the pressure of an entire civilization on his back.

For a fleeting moment, he wanted to abandon his post and head to Omega to find Sadie - Danica - so they could go into hiding together. His stomach contracted painfully when he realized that he didn't even know if she was still alive.

"Did you two keep in touch?"

Garrus's voice abruptly dragged him out of his reverie, and his gaze flickered from the drink to the man beside him, his eyes so like his father's.

In spite of the similarities in their appearance, there were few other similarities between Kaius and his son. Kaius was cold and reclusive; Garrus was warm, friendly, and from what Victus could see from his relationship with Shepard, loving. Kaius was utilitarian, Garrus loved his technology. Kaius was serious - often too serious - and Garrus was always cracking jokes, regardless of the situation. Kaius was repulsed by aliens; Garrus was madly in love with one. Adrien could see it in Garrus's eyes, hear it in his subvocals: he adored everything about Shepard and was unstoppably loyal. Garrus had listened to every single word of Victus's story about his young love with rapt attentiveness.

If only humans and turians interacted as amicably then as they did now, he and Sadie could be together to this day.

How painful wishful thinking could be.

"We did, for a long time," he finally answered. "We had to time our calls very carefully, and we had to often keep them very short. The war ended a few months after I left Omega, and when humans became more interspersed through the galaxy Sadie was able to remove her suit and began to live a more normal life.

"A few years after my little tale, I met my wife. I couldn't lie to my wife, but I couldn't exactly keep tabs with my first love while I was with another woman, so our interactions were reduced to annual newsletters. She entered into a relationship herself about a year later, and in her last message she told me that she had a daughter through a surrogate. I... haven't heard from her since."

"Aren't you curious where she is now?" Garrus asked in hushed tones.

"Although my life became overwhelming with my wife, my son, and my position as a General, I think about it every day. But she either blocked all communications or..." He swallowed, allowing the sentence to finish itself. "Either way, my attempts at contact have been ineffective. With the war now, I have no hope of finding her again."

Garrus let out a very human tutting noise. "It's never too late."

"For an old man who's tasked with saving a burning planet, it is too late."

A ping resonated from Garrus's omni-tool, and he let out a frustrated sigh. "Duty calls. But thank you, Victus. I greatly enjoyed our time together; your tale was very enlightening."

"I appreciated the company, Garrus. Keep in touch if you ever need me."

"I will."

As the young turian left, so full of hope and love, Victus wondered to himself if there would ever be a time again when he was not lonely. With Sadie, Tarquin, and his wife gone, all he had left was his duty and his people.

* * *

Perched high in the rafters above the bar, Sadie shoved her handkerchief in her mouth to muffle her weeping.

Adrien still thought of her, after all these years.

Would he still feel the same if he knew that her husband had been killed by the Alliance men that were chasing her down? If he knew that in fear of those men she had given away her only daughter to protect her? That she had ceased contact with Adrien to protect him from those same people, and that she had been spending her last twenty years in hiding?

But this is the Reaper war. This is the end of the galaxy. This is the time to take chances.

She watched him as he finished his drink and stood with a groan reserved for aching bones, and as she crawled through the rafters behind him her own bones protested. Only a kilometre from the bar he entered an unobtrusive apartment complex, and she followed. She watched from around a corner as he entered into an apartment, and with a deep inhale, she jogged over to knock on his door.

Adrien stopped abruptly when he heard the knock and spun around, hesitant to answer. If someone wished to speak with him, why would they follow him here?

But when he gazed through the viewing hole, his heart rose up in his throat until it felt akin to being choked and he swung the door open so swiftly that he nearly threw it off his hinges.

It was her.

It was _Sadie._

She had doubtless changed: her hair was black instead of blue, the fire in her eyes had been muted, and lines had begun to appear at the corners of her eyes.

But it was still _her._

"Sadie," he whispered, sweeping her up in his arms and spinning her in circles while they both laughed until their stomachs ached.

Their past woes and crimes were forgotten, and Adrien and Sadie lived in the moment.

After that day, through the war and beyond, neither of them were again burdened with loneliness.

A/N: THE END! I hope everyone enjoyed reading my little tale of Adrien and Sadie. A big thank you goes out to SnowWhiteQueen for being a fantastic beta, and a big thank you also goes out to everyone who's been reading and reviewing my work (extra thanks to Mousey57 for reviewing almost every chapter!). Your support continues to inspire me to write.


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